Freak goes to school
by juliasejanus
Summary: A young boy wants to go to school. Aunt Petunia tells Dudley all five year olds go to school. Well, Freak is five, so he's going to school as well. Story continues as strange letters arrive for 10 year old Harry Evans, who is quite happy at his Children's Home in Kingston. Thank you very much. Warning Child Abuse
1. Chapter 1

September 1985 - Little Whining Infant School, Surrey

Miss Withenshaw loved September, after four years teaching she still got an excited buzz on the first day of a new year, twenty something four and five year olds starting their formal education. Some would be clingy, some naughty and some little angels. She looked at the boys and girls as they arrived with their anxious parents. All neatly dressed in red school sweatshirts, well all except one.

Freak hung back as he hid behind the school bins, watching his aunt fuss over her big boy, her young man, lovely perfect Dudley. It had been a good morning so far, he'd sneaked out of the house and had walked to school, not getting lost once, just following the older girls from No. 8. Dudley had been driven to school. Dudley had new school clothes, new shoes, a neat haircut and Spiderman back pack. Freak wore a pair of ripped jeans, a baggy shirt and t-shirt. Rags that were in fact his best set of clothes. The trainers had been rejected by Dudley two years before as not the right kind, no flashing lights, so they had become Freaks's. Now they were worn out with split soles. Freak was old enough for school. He checked. You went to school when you were five. He'd asked his aunt his age last week, she'd whacked him one for disturbing her, but she'd answered with "Five you idiot!". He wanted to ask when his birthday was but he'd been beaten black and blue the last time he'd asked that.

This boy was observed by Miss Withenshaw as he hung up his shirt on the back of his seat. The young teacher of the Reception Class noted the bruises ringing the boy's wrists and upper arms. She happy, cheerful and all smiles, and took the register. The young boy was not on her list of pupils, when she asked his name wondering if she'd misheard his reply, and he gave his name as 'Freak'. Class started with play and the boy hung back in the corner of the room away from all the other children. The child not touching any toys, not talking or interacting at all. Come break she checked with the school secretary, no there were no additional children expected. Neither Daphne Withenshaw not Miss Davison had any idea of the identity of this additional child. The headmaster was in a meeting, and was not to be disturbed, so Daphne made her phone call to Surrey Social Services and filed a complaint direct with the police. The school office had no details on the child with no name.

Freak sat with the school secretary as Dr. Cohen gave him a medical. The Doctor looked at the child's skeletal frame, even without touching the five year old, he could see misaligned bones in the stick thin arms. The boy had pulled off his t-shirt to reveal welts and extensive bruising over his entire back and torso. The doctor smiled and his heart broke. He went to talk to the Police Officer and to arrange to take 'Frankie' to Kingston Hospital for full assessment. The doctor had seen the boy's face light up when Miss Withenshaw had called the boy a nice name rather than 'Freak'. The Police now knew Dudley Dursley was the boy's cousin. He lived in the cupboard under the stairs and his best friends were the spiders, who he shared his 'room with. Frank Dursley was five, dangerously malnourished, with signs of scurvy and rickets and with no official records, not even a birth certificate.

Freak liked being called Frankie, it was like they all liked him. He'd even been called a good boy, several times. School was even better than he'd hoped. He got to sit on a chair and no one had hit him, not even once. Now the nice Policewoman Jenny was taking him in her car. He'd never been in a car before. He hadn't meant to fall asleep but the car was warm and comfy, Jenny had even held his hand.


	2. Chapter 2

**FREAK IS A WIZARD**

**All Hail Jacqueline Wilson and her creation Tracy Breaker from whom I have borrowed the phrase 'Dumping Ground'.**

July 1991 - Kingston Hill, Surrey

The Dumping Ground was the kid's name for the Children's Home on Kingston Hill. Most kids were here as short term placements but Harry Evans had been here for five years. He'd been placed with foster parents twice. Both times, the placements had gone spectacularly wrong. Harry was a bright little boy, one who loved and excelled at school. He was diagnosed with Social Anxiety. Harry did not make friends and now had problems interacting with adult males. Mark and Candice Dibbley had fostered five year old Harry. The young couple had stated the boy was possessed and had tried to exorcise the demons possessing him. For a boy previously abused to be placed with abusers, it had been a nightmare for the Department of Social Services. Harry had been mute when he arrived at the Children's Home. His second placement had been prospective adoptive parents. Eight year old Harry had walked six miles back to the home after four weeks. His supposed siblings had labelled him a freak and Harry hated that word.

Gillian McArran was Harry's case officer and had responded to a request for a meeting. She looked at the letter her charge had received. She noted the strange letter with no stamp, a hand written invitation to a school with no return address, transcribed in neat copperplate in lurid green ink on expensive parchment and addressed to_ Mr. H. Potter, Room 8, Second Floor, Chandler House, Chandler Drive, Kingston-upon-Thames, Surrey_."

Harry looked grumpy. He was always touchy over his name. He had only found out about his given name at five after his Aunt's arrest. His mother had been Lily Evans. There was no record of his father anywhere. His aunt had stated his mother had married a man called Potter, but there was no official record of any marriage. "I'm Evans... My mother was Lily Evans. Who's Potter? Another freak!" Harry still believed that Potter had killed his mother in a drink driving accident. He had no reason to doubt his Aunt's explanation of his mother's demise. He was not a Potter, never a Potter.

"Now, Harry, we do not use the f word."

"Fuck that!" Harry smiled. It was his favourite joke.

"No swearing. Thats one pound off your allowance. This invitation looks like a hoax. A joke. You are going to Kingston Grammar School in September, you earned your full scholarship. I don't know how you'll cope boarding, but we'll see."

"They want me cause I run so fast. Athletics scholarship." Harry was the English School's under 12's cross country champion. He was fast and like to win from the front.

"Not the fact you are two grade's ahead in your school work, Mr. Genius."

"No. I'm going to run faster and train harder and go to the Olympics and be better than Sebastian Coe." Harry had been encouraged to have goals, he just wanted to be the best and he was a talented runner.

"Yes, Harry and be a doctor" Gillian was happy for Harry, he was finally breaking out of his shell after years of being mostly silent, communicating with sign and shrugs.

"Yep. My life goals. And eat an entire birthday cake all by myself. Pineapple cake with very yellow icing, not chocolate. I don't like chocolate." Harry shook his head with a sour look on his face to reinforce his hatred of chocolate cake.

"We know. So thank you for passing on this hoax letter. If you get any more, we might have to have an investigation."

"No charges. Not like Mark and Candice. They went to prison like Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon." Harry hugged himself, he still remembered the pain. He had a deep down self hated for his failure to have the ideal goal of a normal family. He was a reject several times over. He'd left the Jones' rather than have them hand him back two years ago.

"Ok, no charges, no statements, no policemen. Ok, kiddo."

Harry was unusual that he quite liked his social worker. She was always honest with him, even if the news was not what Harry wanted to hear. Like, the fact his Aunt had been released for good behaviour. His relative's had been imprisoned for neglect, abuse, kidnapping. It had not made the paper's to protect him. He was dreading the day, Vernon got out. Harry still had nightmares about Vernon.

Chandler House was a large mansion, red brick and ugly. The English revival style large detached villa was a mismatch of modern and faux medieval. Its design was meant to reflect a castle, it looked right out of a horror story. This house was home to eight girls aged seven to fifteen and eight boys aged six to thirteen. Harry knew the house and gardens better than anyone. He had several sneaky safe bolt holes. Places none of the other kids knew about. Harry could read in peace, or draw or keep his journal. Harry was different. Gillian might try and reinforce the fact everyone was different but Harry had just had his fears confirmed. He was a freak, a magic wielding wizard. He could concentrate and make things move. He could pass unseen if he wanted. He had made people forget things. He did not want to be a freak. Aunt Petunia had said his mother had been a freak as well, he'd just inherited it from her.

Harry found the letters every morning for a week and burned them. He noted the owls in the garden and was not surprised when one willingly took the note he had written. Hopefully all contact with the freaks would stop with his complete and utter refusal to go to a freak school, teaching freaky things to freaks.

_29th July 1991_

_Dear Madam Deputy Headmistress_

_I am writing to ask you to stop writing to me. I want no contact with your school. You really should abide by the rules anyway. Any contact should come through my placement team at the Department of Social Services. My Social Worker is Gillian Mc Arran. She would tell you my secondary school place was decided at Easter. Your offer came too late. So I will not be attending your school. I have no wish to be a Wizard and I really do not want anything from you lot. You even got my name wrong. I am Harry Evans, not Potter,_

_Yours sincerely_

_Harry Evans_


	3. Chapter 3

Harry woke at ten to midnight on the 30th July 1991. The stroke of midnight was possibly the best bit of the whole day as it was nearly his birthday. Well, he would enjoy his extra long early morning run across Richmond Park, undertaken before breakfast and without the staff knowing. He was watching his clock as the number changed to 11:58, it was now two minutes to midnight. In two minutes he was eleven. Knowing the fact turning eleven was a sort of milestone, he expected some sort of outing tomorrow. Harry would eat pine needles before lunch and be sick as a dog. Harry was allergic to pine trees. The bout of violent vomiting would mean all the kids would celebrate his birthday without him. He would be allowed to read a book alone and in bed, absolute perfection. This year he planned not to suffer the company of all the other rejects, not to have to pretend to be happy or to have to force himself to interact ; especially not after the farce of the previous year. The outing for his 10th birthday had been to the bowling alley. The game had been disrupted by a large loathsome man telling the very naughty and boisterous Christopher Lenard off for disrupting his game, the man shouting and screaming about his gutter ball being all Chris' fault. That man had been a perfect imitation of Vernon Dursley, Harry had just stood there hugging his bowling ball and the man had suddenly gone bald. Harry knew he had done it and dropped the ball and run as fast as a whippet the four miles from Tolworth to Kingston Hill as if the demons of hell were behind him. He'd been sure he'd be kicked out, beaten or burned. Freakishness was not tolerated, not normal. They'd found Harry with all his stuff packed in a rucksack, hiding in the back of his wardrobe, Harry had to admit it was a very crap hiding place. He was down as a high flight risk. Each day the staff checked if he'd packed his stuff in preparation of leaving and tried all the harder to get him to interact and participate. The incident with the bald man was never mentioned, it was as if no one remembered it, just the fact Harry had run off in the middle of his birthday party frightened by the large aggressive man. It was all very strange.

A row of zeros were visible on Harry's radio clock alarm and there was a crash which seemed to shake through the entire house. Someone or something was at the front door. Harry snuck out of his room to the top of the stairs and peeked through the banisters at the hall below. Margaret was awake, she was the manager. So was Cassie, 15 nearly sixteen and a night owl. Margaret told Cassie firmly to go get Charlie.

Margaret had checked the locks, however the video camera on the door was on the frizz. "Whoever you are, it is midnight and all the children are in bed asleep. Visiting is regulated by the Department of Social Services at County Hall. Their offices are open 9 to 5 Monday to Friday. If you do not leave right away, I will call the Police."

Harry watched Charlie enter the hall, woken by the noise, and who was on the phone already, talking in hushed urgent tones. Cassie then climbed to the top of the stairs and looked at Harry. "Go to bed, best let the adults handle this. The guy outside must be at least seven foot tall and nearly as wide. I could see him from Maggie's office."

"Did he look like a Freak?" asked Harry in shaky unsure way.

"Yeah... Shit, I never said that. Don't let on I acknowledged your use of that forbidden word, Harry."

"I never squeal, Cass. You know that" he said firmly, before mumbling "I have dreams about a huge bloke on a motorcycle." Harry then thought on the movie they'd watched when Charlie was busy last week. "Do you think he's a terminator come to kill us all?"

"Harry, that film was just a story, make-believe. One meant for adults only. I could kill Christopher for letting you watch it. You're too delicate for all that violence and horror. Well, we both understand that you don't have to do nothing to get the crap beaten out of you. My step dad did a number on me and well, your just unlucky... two sets of abusing bastards." Cass reached forward and noted Harry's small flinch. She still ruffled his messy black hair. "Great start to your birthday, ehh. Big school soon. Posh big school as well."

"Not posh, independent. I'm still a pikey at heart even at boarding school."

"We all are here, love." Cassie smiled. Harry still had his eyes on the front door. With a crash the door gave in.

"Where's 'arry... What 'ave those Dursley's done to that sweet boy... He wasn't at Privet Drive. He wrote to Professor McGonagall, said he wasn't a Potter. said he wasn't going to Hogwarts. Generations of Potter's have done their schooling there. His name has been down since he was born." The large man was huge almost filling the entrance hall and dwarfing Margaret and Charlie.

Charlie stood forward arms outstretched, trying to calm the impossibly large man who was visibly upset. "Please leave, your disturbing the kids, its the middle of the night for Christ's sake. Talk to our team at County Hall, I'm sure they will sort everything out. Mister?"

"Oh, Rebeus Hagrid, call me Hagrid. Groundsman and Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts School." The man said, calming down and looking a lot less threatening.

Harry at this point stood up and shouted. "I'm not going to any freak school, you... you... nasty man. I told that woman McGonagall not to contact me. Go away and never come back. Leave me alone."

"Cor... Harry... You look just like your Dad... Do you remember me? I took you to the Dursley's when you were a baby."

Harry tried to process this. His man caused all his pain, his alienation. Anger welled up in the young boy and he ran down stairs and tried to thrown himself at the giant man. Margaret caught him and proceeded to put the out of control child into a safety hold. A red light erupted from the umbrella in the giant's hand. Margaret and then Charlie felt to the floor, unresponsive.

The man had used magic. Cassie was screaming blue murder and Chris was at the top of the stairs. If Chris was awake, so would all the others. Harry picked himself up. "If I go with you, you won't hurt anyone else."

The man, Hagrid, looked a bit stunned himself and nodded. He just took hold of Harry's hand and led the boy into the night and to an unknown fate.

Hagrid stopped on the corner Park Road, which was deserted just after midnight, the houses on both sides of the road dark. The large man had one hand gripped around Harry's wrist and with the other he held his umbrella aloft. Almost immediately, an impossibly large purple triple decker appeared suddenly and screeched to a holt. Hagrid pulled Harry aboard. No one said anything about a barefoot child in Star Wars pajamas. The conductor just nodded as said "Hogsmede, Hagrid?"

Hagrid looked at the boy, the spitting image of James Potter who looked scared out of his mind. "Right away, Stan. Need to see Dumbledore straight away. Got a bit of a mess to sort out."


	4. Chapter 4

Harry had been half dragged from the school gates to the large castle after the most horrendous bus journey of his entire life. His bare feet leaving bloody trails on the stone slabs and the stairs unnoticed by his huge abductor. The boy noted in a haze they had finally stopped moving as he swayed in what he assumed was the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts School . He noted an ornamental clock chime 2 o'clock in the morning, Harry was so exhausted, he was only upright because of the tight grip on his arm by Hagrid. He'd lost the feeling in his lower right arm and hand about an hour ago.

Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape arrived at the office in answer to Hagrid's summons. The Head of Gryffindor looked shell-shocked at the scene before her, but Severus Snape was the first to act. "Let go of the boy, Hagrid. He needs medical attention."

Harry fell straight to the floor like a stone, shivering uncontrollably with exhaustion, cold, fear and pain, cradling the arm bruised black and blue by the large man's firm grip. Snape reached into his robes for a vial of calming potion but the boy firmly clamped his mouth shout, refusing the medicine.

Severus saw the wild look of absolute mistrust in the boy's eyes. He had heard that Lily's son had taken her name and had been brought up completely muggle in a Council children's Home. The dark haired man spoke in a low calm voice. "Mr. Evans... Harry... I'm going to take you to the school hospital. Where I shall bandage your feet and sort out your injured arm. OK? You can go to sleep and I will stay with you and I promise that no more harm will befall you. I promise not to hurt you."

Harry looked straight into the sallow faced man's dark eyes and something passed unsaid between them. This scary looking man was speaking the truth. Harry agreed with a small and unsure "OK" and allowed himself to be picked up.

Severus left his colleagues and hoped common sense would prevail. This situation was an absolute nightmare. He wondered how Dumbledore would salvage this. One, the Boy-who-lived had grown up in an orphanage with no idea of his heritage or his history apart from his birth mother's name. Two, he thought all magicals were freaks thanks to the influence of Petunia Evans Dursley. Three, he had been abused and neglected to the point he practically only trusted and relied on himself. Four, he had rejected education at Hogwarts outright. Five he'd been kidnapped in the middle of the night by the said same freaks.

He carried the child to the hospital wing in silence. It was in the middle of the summer and Poppy was away, so he would tend the boy's wounds, as a Potion's master he was a fully trained emergency healing technician. A skill needed for those numerous accidents due to thoughtless dunderheads and their sloppy work practices, unable even to follow simple step by step instructions.

As he assessed the deep bruising, not quite a crush injury but a close thing. His scans showed the radius and ulna bones were not broken, but the skin, muscle and blood vessels were damaged to the depth of the bones. A salve was gently and carefully rubbed in and the arm bandaged and protected with a sling. The boys feet were covered in burst blisters, scratches and a couple of deep cuts. He bathed the delicate skin in a cleaning solution and bandaged both feet.

"So Mr. Evans, will you take some medicine now." Severus put a row of three vials on the bedside table. Harry was probably as bright as his mother and as a Professor he always followed the mantra of never lying to any children. He may appear to be an ogre, he may sneer and frighten but he stated facts. Making potions was dangerous. No child ever misbehaved in his class, not when even slight sloppiness or attitude was severely punished. He pointed to each in turn and explain their affects. "That one, is like antibiotics, it will stop your cuts becoming infected. That one will ease the pain and reduces swelling and I know your arm hurts a lot and the final one will help you sleep. I promise to stay here and I will be here when you wake. We can then discuss your options. If it were up to me I would send you home, straight away, but who knows. This place is an insane asylum at the moment, not a school on recess. So, are you taking your medicine like a good boy?"

"Is it like Mary Poppin's? Do they taste like your favourite things?" Harry hoped for limeade or shandy.

Snape smiled, remembering he had seen that very same film with Lily many years ago. "No, they taste like slugs and snails and puppy dogs tails. All nasty, but medicine is always nasty especially if it works."

Harry took each and drank them straight down and shuddered at the foul taste. "Yuck!" was all he said before he slumped into deep dreamless sleep.

...

Dumbledore watched Severus take the boy to be healed. He felt old, really old. He coughed and smiled weakly. "I missed you both earlier on when I was at the ministry. I take it Harry was not living with his family at 4 Privet Drive?" The question was directed to Hagrid. He had hoped he would talk to Petunia and Arabella to understand why Harry was going on about Social Workers, why the boy was in a children's home and why these facts had not been relayed by Arabella Figg.

"Arabella said she wrote to you in 1986, four times about Harry and the Dursley's. Harry was put in foster care on his first day of school. Social Services would not tell her anything. She assumed you'd sorted the boy's care out after Vernon an Petunia Dursley were sent to prison for hurting the boy." Hagrid frowned. "I talked to Minerva earlier and got Harry's address. Since I was in Surrey I went and got him. He doesn't even know he's a Potter, that he saved us all from You-Know-Who, its only right he goes to school here. Thats what Lily and James wanted, after all". The large man produced a red and white polka dot handkerchief and proceeded to blow his nose, that boy had been hurt by those muggles, hurt bad.

Albus watched Minerva sit down heavily. "I warned you Albus.. I warned you they were the worst sort of muggles. A muggle orphanage for Lily's precious boy. Unthinkable. How did you not know?"

Albus had stopped reading the pages of complains and rants about the unsuitableness of Petunia Dursley from Arabella Figg in 1982. Harry was alive, he was protected. But he wasn't. His monitors were the same, which meant the wards had never taken. Only if Petunia had completely rejected her nephew would they have never worked. The woman could not have done that. Could she? Lily had been loved by all. Even the worst pureblood supremacists had to acknowledge the brilliance and bravery of Lily Evans Potter. Petunia had begged to join Lily at Hogwarts, heartbroken at the thought of being separated from her sister. What had happened for her to hurt Harry? Had she blamed the boy for her sister's death? That was completely illogical and why would a fine, good and upstanding husband do the same? Albus had no clue.

Minerva noted the Headmaster was lost in his musings, so she continued to question the Groundskeeper. "So, Hagrid, you took Harry from his bed, I take it, from his attire?"

"Err no, not exactly, Professor McGonagall, Ma'am. I was a bit upset after talking to Mrs. Figg. Hot under the collar, you might say. I might have done a bit of magic. Harry only agreed to come with me to protect the other kids in the hall." Hagrid knew he should not have stunned those muggles but they were hurting Harry. He'd only done it to protect the Boy-who-Lived.

Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose. "Now, Hagrid, tell us everything that happened from the beginning and leave out no details. Its very important."


	5. Chapter 5

Severus Snape was able to grab a few hours uninterrupted sleep until he woke at 6. His usual routine started when the house elf assigned to him, popped in with a glass of black tea. The boy was still deeply asleep, drugged to have no nightmares. The rise and fall of the boys chest was even and accompanied by soft snores. Snape had guessed the boys weight and the dose of dreamless sleep should see the child through to lunch time. The Potions Master wondered on the matter of custody. He hoped the child would be fostered, loved and accepted. The small boy was a good mix of both parents, his hair black like his fathers, but the skin tone, shape of the face, cheekbones and forehead were all Lily. School reports in London placed the boy ahead by two years of his peers in Maths and Science, only his awkward shyness and lack of social interaction holding him back. He would likely break records here, if he came here to school, but that was not certain. Harry had made it known he wanted to go to his muggle grammar school.

Snape drained his tea and the elf appeared silently awaiting instructions, "Breakfast Mason, something light and please bring my potions journal." Time in the hospital wing could be spent going over the results on his last experiments. He, despite, the heavy school workload still published at least four articles a year in various journals. Potions were his true love, not the Dark Arts like the rumours that had surrounded him since he was a child. He was respected the world over for his advancements and discoveries in the subtle art of brewing.

The hours ticked by, at ten thirty official visitors arrived. He recognised Amelia Bones, but the two other women were introduced as Miss Trudy Lavelle of the Department of Muggle Affairs and Miss Sylvie DuBois of the Department of Widows, Orphans and Family Services.

"I see you are looking after Mr Potter, Professor Snape." Amelia Bones stood by the hospital bed, placing her monocle in her left eye to have a good look over her late friend's son. "He looks like his mother, I hear he has her temperament as well. A firecracker, not to be run roughshod over."

Amelia turned around and precisely flicked her wand and three comfy chairs were conjured with a side table. The witch then unshrunk a huge pile of paper work. "Hagrid is on suspension, but knowing Dumbledore he'll be back at work within a month, a slapped wrist for a serious felony. I know the man meant well but the kidnapping has been lodged with the muggle authorities, it was on local radio and filed with Interpol before the Obliviators knew anything was wrong. There are a few small mercies about this case. Harry Evans was abducted not Harry Potter. The magical world at large is oblivious and no photos have been published of Harry. Managed to get a D notice out on that."

"D notice?" Snape had no idea what that entailed.

"Muggle term for National Security Blackout." Madam Bones explained. "So about Mr. Potter , well I suppose I best use Evans, here, Miss DuBois has arranged for his continuing schooling and fostering."

Miss DuBois was a petite dark haired witch with a severe bob and wearing the latest Paris fashions. Severus guessed she was a member of the magical coven in Orleans. The coven dated back to Roman times, only the occasional member of the seven families of old ventured beyond its wards.

"So he is to go to Beauxbatons?" Snape assumed. Hogwarts was out, not with Hagrid the boy's kidnapper here and protected by Dumbledore.

Amelia Bones then smiled, "We have another option. Apprenticeship. Seven years from Journeyman to Master. Eleven is the youngest age possible for a journeyman and Harry is eleven today and free to choose an independent education path. You, Potions Master Snape are also being offered sanctuary with the Dubois coven."

Severus knew Dumbledore would agree to Snape taking an interest as a boy, as the Old man would believe Snape would train the boy to be the weapon, the sacrificial lamb to take down Voldemort once and for all. Let Albus take on the rising dark and let Harry heal, grown and embrace his power. "Will the boy be allowed to continue his non-magical studies?"

"Harry will be free to learn whatever he wants. There is no stupid classifications of magic or proper subjects to study. Our chief witch is a scryer reading entrails, her husband a necromancer, both dark and punishable by death in Britain. He may wish to study maths or physical science. He will learn to control his magic without the dampening control of your ministry sanctioned wand. I took the position with family services as my grandmother foresaw this moment. Harry Evans Potter is an untrained, and unrestrained mage. He has control of his core already. He is so like his mother only stronger. She delayed her apprenticeship in our enclave because of her involvement in your war thirteen years ago. Harry may be prophesied to fight, but he will do so as an independent wizard, beyond Dumbledore's control. You can accompany him, to help him. You can be free both your master's. I will leave you to decide. I do not need to explain to Harry as he has been listening in to our discussion."

A small voice asked "A real coven. Proper wiccan magic?"

"Yes, young man and where did you learn of the Old Ways?" said a perplexed Madam Bones, almost dropping her monocle.

"On TV, where else. I like all that stuff. Its people telling me that I have to go somewhere, do something I don't like. Then a giant brute forces me to come here and says I can't live in London. Stating normal people are stupid muggles and it being not right living with them. The dumping ground is all I know. But I like the idea of France... well your coven sounds a good compromise. So I get to be a Magician's Apprentice with a red robe and pointy hat with stars. Cool." Harry absentmindedly rubbed his sore arm.

"Well Harry, you need more nasty medicine and a good breakfast, then we shall travel to Orleans to see what this coven can offer a pair of scholars, one old and one young." Snape almost felt hope, something his life had lacked since his best friend Lily had died.


End file.
